


A Touch Of Yule

by Rakshi



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshi/pseuds/Rakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a special Yule surprise for Frodo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch Of Yule

**Author's Note:**

> It was inspired by one of [](http://shirebound.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://shirebound.dreamwidth.org/)**shirebound** 's famous ShireBunnies. I wandered a bit from where the story started, but I still want to give credit to the bunnie that got me going.
>
>>   
> F8. In Rivendell, Sam is thinking about all the things he's packed for the Quest, including "small belongings of his master's that Frodo had forgotten and Sam had stowed to bring them out in triumph when they were called for." Whatever had Sam packed? When were they called for?
> 
> Author's Notes: As always.. deepest thanks to my best friend [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=abandonada)  
> [ **abandonada** ](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=abandonada) for her first rate beta work. She knows these characters so well and loves them so much that she makes any story she touches so much better. 

Sam had the first watch. He preferred to take first watch because for Sam _staying_ up was easier than _waking_ up in the middle of the night. The pitch-dark of Moria was relieved only by the sputtering flame of their tiny fire, and Sam sighed as he watched it, leaning his back against a boulder. The rest of the company slept all around him, curled up among the rocky nooks and crannies dotting the small plateau upon which they were camped.

He glanced over at Frodo who slept not far away, and then he wriggled a bit to ease his discomfort. His eyes fell to his pack, which was easily twice the size of any other in the company. It lay close by his side, and as Sam tried yet again to find a more comfortable position, he rested his hand upon it and smiled a secret smile.

The company had left Rivendell more than a week ago, and as always, Frodo had checked Sam's pack before they set forth... or at any rate he had _tried_ to check it. It's not that he was nosy. He was, instead, engaged in a usually-futile attempt to keep Sam from secretly adding Frodo's possessions to his own pack... some of which Frodo had decided to leave behind to avoid the additional weight.

To Frodo, it was but a small sacrifice and he wasn't being singled out. None of the company had been able to bring many personal items along. Time was short and speed was of the essence. Necessities such as food, drink, weapons, maps, and such camping and cooking gear as were needed were all they could manage.

But to Sam, it was an outrageous insult that his beloved Frodo might have to do without even _one_ of the special treasures he had brought along on their journey. “Bad enough he’s taken on the burden of carrying that... that... _Ring_ ,” Sam grumbled. "He won't be made to give up what few little treasures he's managed to bring along as well. I won't have it, and that's flat!"

 

For Sam, this was the end of it. It simply would not do that Frodo be thus deprived. But avoiding his sharp eyes and enquiring questions was never easy. And little though he wished to deceive his master, Frodo's persistence forced him to engage in no small amount of dodging and trickery to keep his secret safe. It had, in fact, become something of a game between them, a game which, somehow, Sam always managed to win. A game which he was more determined than ever to win on this particular leg of their journey.

Frodo had been ill; gravely wounded high on Weathertop. And since then, the weight of his pack had caused him a good deal of discomfort. Sam had repeatedly begged to be allowed to carry his master’s pack as well as his own, but Frodo simply refused to allow it. Sam remained undeterred. If anything, he was more determined than ever that Frodo keep his precious treasures without having to bear the extra weight of them in his own pack. 

And now, amid the rocks of Moria, Sam felt a glow of satisfaction in the knowledge that deep within his backpack there rested a small box, given to Frodo by his mother which held a hair-clip she once wore, a letter written to him by his father, a handkerchief given to him by Bilbo many years ago, a loaf of Elven sweetbread that had been served to them in Rivendell that Frodo had found incredibly delicious (Sam had begged the Elves to give him a loaf to take on their journey as a surprise for Frodo and they had happily complied), and many other small items that Frodo treasured or might eventually need.

Sam's own backpack contained little of personal value. His box of salt and his cooking gear were the only personal items that he had carried from the Shire... except for one other small treasure. And tonight he would, at last, bring it forth.

He turned slowly toward Frodo, who rested close beside him, and reached out to gently touch his arm. "Frodo?" he whispered, not wanting to rouse the rest of the sleeping company. "Frodo, me dear, could you wake for a moment?"

Frodo rubbed his eyes and sat up, turning toward Sam. "Is it time to leave already?"

"No, my dearest Frodo, it is still night. But I have something to show you and I wanted to do it while everyone else was asleep."

"What is it, Sam?" Frodo asked, scooting himself closer to Sam along the rock floor. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Sam whispered. He was scrabbling around in his pack then smiled as his hand touched a familiar object. He drew it out and quickly sat himself close to Frodo. It was a cloth in which something appeared to be wrapped.

"What is this?"

"At home," Sam whispered with a touch of sadness in his voice, ".... at home 'tis Yule. If we were there now we'd have a Yule log on the fire, and holly on the door, and mincemeat pies in the oven, and cakes, and steamed pudding, and.... " He sighed, lost in memory. ".... and good mulled wine."

Frodo sighed with him and leaned against Sam's arm. "I miss it," he whispered. "The smells, Sam! The wonderful smells when we'd walk through the village. And you always made the best Yule log! They'd last for days and days and smelled like... like... well, like all the forests in the Shire and all the spices in Bree wrapped in one." He kissed Sam's cheek and whispered wistfully: "Oh, I so long to be there!"

"As do I, my love," Sam told him, returning his kiss. "But this," he said, indicating the wrapped package in his hand. "... this is something I brought along because I feared we'd not see Yule in the Shire this year."

"What is it?" Frodo asked again, peering at the small bundle in Sam's hand.

"Well," Sam began, slowly unwrapping his treasure. "I found it up in the North Farthing in the Bindbole Wood just before we left. It was already cold up there and able to grow a bit. I nursed it along all through our travels. I kept it wrapped, and damp, with a bit of moss to protect it. And I always kept it outside.... "

"Sam, whatever is it?"

Sam removed the last of the wrapping and brushed aside the mosses, and there in his strong brown hand lay a clump of holly leaves adorned with a few white berries and a bit of evergreen. He lifted it to his nose and smelled. "Ah, yes. There's still a little scent. That's what I most wanted!" He held it toward Frodo who leaned his face close and inhaled deeply.

"Oh, Sam, I CAN smell it!" he exclaimed, clutching Sam's arm. "Just faintly to be sure, but here nonetheless. It's the smell of Yule. And of.... of home!" He looked up at Sam, his eyes brimming with tears. "What a rare and precious gift," he said in a soft whisper. "Thank you, my sweet Samwise, and... and a blessed Yule to you, my dear."

"And to you, my Frodo," Sam replied, leaning in to kiss him tenderly. "'Tis a strange one to be sure. I hope we never see one that's stranger. But at least there's this little piece of the Shire to help us recall what we know and what we love."

For a long time they hunched close together over the small sprigs of holly, inhaling the faint scent, touching the leaves with gentle fingers, then Sam wrapped them again and returned them to his pack. "I'll keep them as long as I can," he told Frodo. "As long as I can coax them to live."

"Please do, my love," Frodo told him. "This journey is sure to have many dark and trying moments. It will ease my heart to know you carry this little touch of home with us. To help us find the light again."

Sam turned back to him and wrapped him close in his arms. "Lie down again and rest now. Rest close beside your Sam. I'll keep watch so that nothing can harm you."

As Frodo lay down, he reached for Sam's hand. _He's the light,_ Frodo thought. _He carries the Shire inside him. It glows there as sure as any star. He'll always be the light that guides me. Always._ And with Sam's hand wrapped secure and warm around his own, he drifted once again into sleep.


End file.
